A Night At Boiling Rock Prison
by Dr. Abraxas
Summary: Sokka and Zuko meet, discretely, in the depths of the prison to spent the night together.


Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**"A Night At Boiling Rock Prison"** by **Abraxas** 2009-01-30

The sun was setting. A large, distorted image, it sunk under the edge of the crater, filling it with shadow and darkness. The melancholy that engulfed the Boiling Rock Prison below clashed with and overcame the twilight of the skies above.

Walking through the ramparts of the fort, Sokka stopped and gazed across at the slopes of the crater. Rocks, falling, breaking. Weathered, bleached bones. Steam, gurgling through its water, rippling against its landscape, suggested its own abysmal images. The bleak vista recalled a memory of life among the icebergs.

Strange that extreme hot and cold so resembled each other.

As the skies settled into deeper and deeper shades of onyx, the tribesman - acting as guard - wandered in to and out of crowds of soldiers. He reached a hatchway then stopped, again, to study that panorama. A stir of air jostled his uniform and he shivered although it was not frigid.

He retreated into the compound suddenly overwhelmed by a somber even depressing kind of feeling.

Maybe it was not that brush of air, alone, that caused a shiver. Maybe it was the realization of something altogether new and different that thoroughly unsettled the teenager. Could it be a fear of tomorrow?

And what awaited.

It was unnatural of Sokka to be afraid of the unknown. He was always brave when it came time to fight. A little reckless. Perhaps. A little headstrong. True, it was not until recently, with Aang and their adventures, that he started to be organized. Like his father, he fell naturally into the role of a planner.

It was not the fear of the unknown as much as the fear of failure and its repercussion.

Blending into the crowds, Sokka saluted and nodded as prompted. He grunted to questions asked rhetorically. He said a few words every now and then. He needed to be careful about what, exactly, he said. The time he spent inside of the Fire Nation served well as he grew familiar with the customs of the people. It could be a very militaristic type of society but among those of equal status and rank it could be informal. Yet even among those who would be the colleagues of the guard he imitated he was mindful about his comments of the prison's internal politics. He was good at dealing with people, though, unlike Zuko.

Deeper and deeper into the bowels of the fort.

Stairs, ramps sinking from colder to hotter levels. Passages, seemingly eternally winding, guards and prisoners shuffling through the corridors like the blood of a beast. Cells opening, like mouths, prisoners entering, like food, consumed by that system.

The metal, everywhere, washed by the light of lamp. The sterile, humid air pushed by fans. The organic vibrations of people shuffling to and fro gradually replaced by the alien whir of turbines.

Sokka was actually soothed by its resonance.

He gazed at a narrow, long row of steps. Framed by a void from wall to wall, it seemed to lead directly into oceans of onyx. It looked like a visage out of a nightmare yet, strangely, it was not foreboding as the landscape of that crater. And, perhaps because of its spooky and abysmal nature, it had been a pace - a safe place to be sure - to rest since they broke into Boiling Rock Prison. So, without further hesitation, he staggered into its depths.

Enveloped by its shadow, its darkness, it was so far removed and remote from the body of the prison as to be an island of solitude.

At the foot of the steps he removed his helmet and combed his hair with his fingers.

He sighed and wondered if he would be there. But he had to be there. Though he had been captured. Though, no doubt, he had been identified. He had to be there! Yes, someway, somehow, he would have found a way to sneak out of that cell. And he would be there not only because he was resourceful even unstoppable but because he could not deal with the thought of another night alone. That night, more than any other night, he needed somebody

"So, hm, you're late."

It was a calm almost indifferent voice but Sokka was not fooled by it.

As if re energized, excitedly, he ran into the abyss and there, there cast by silhouette, there against a wall, waited Zuko.

"How - I mean - how did you get away? You..."

Before another word could be uttered hands reached and grasped his shoulders and drew his body yet deeper still into that abyss. Then arms grasped and tightened and held his waist. Then lips fell upon his cheek masterfully as if they knew by heart each and every feature of his face.

Sokka sighed and, exhausted by the affection, buried his face against Zuko's shoulder.

The two boys stayed clasped like that, kissing and hugging intermittently, until they relented and sat side by side along the bottom of the wall.

"I've been talking to my dad," Sokka said as he brushed his knee against Zuko's knee.

"Good, Sokka, is he doing OK?" asked Zuko while wrapping an his arm around Sokka's shoulder.

"Yeah, he's injured but he's OK."

Sokka chuckled - the tone was so matter of fact as if being imprisoned was just another thing to do.

He paused again to think about that strange pang of fear that shook his body. It seemed maybe at last he realized all of its significance. It was more than only the fear of failure. If he were alone then failure would not be fatal. Disastrous yes. Fatal no. Because he would be able to take his time and experiment. But he was not alone and he did not have that luxury anymore. So much depended on their escaping the Boiling Rock Prison. His sister. The Avatar. And the fate of the world.

It was the fear of failing the people who needed him.

"Zuko, we came up with a plan," he said squeezing his friend's hand. "It's, complicated, and it could be a failure..."

"Don't be afraid of it, failing - I mean. If there's a chance that plan works then it's a good enough reason to try it." He squeezed back. "Just...think about getting away. And how sweet it will be to escape. And what you're going to do when you're gone."

"Picture yourself winning?" Zuko grunted at Sokka's question. "Well, you sound like you know, heh - is that what you were doing when you were hunting the Avatar?"

"Something like that."

"Everything hinges on us finding a way to start a riot."

Zuko laughed. "Is that it, a riot?" Sokka nodded. "That should be easy enough to do. Just punch out someone or something like that."

"Yeah, that's what my dad figures..."

**END**


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